


Weight is on my Shoulders, Holding me Down

by TylerM



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Big Brother Dean, Bonding, Brother Feels, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Emotional Manipulation, Family, Hurt Dean Winchester, Hurt/Comfort, John Winchester Tries, John Winchester's A+ Parenting, Little Winchesters, Protective Dean Winchester, Sad Dean, Sick Dean Winchester, Weechester
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-08
Updated: 2017-02-08
Packaged: 2018-09-22 19:38:30
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,738
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9622622
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TylerM/pseuds/TylerM
Summary: Over the years, Deans not sure how Daddy became 'Yes Sir' but it did. Right until the moment that John Winchester left and never came back.- Or the one where we watch the relationship between John and Dean over the years go from a little boy who worships his father, to the man who needs to protect his little brother, but still worships his father despite everything.(Johns an ass butt but he tries, and I wanted to explore that. Maybe a bit OOC for John but it shows him trying to be a good dad after Mary).





	

**Author's Note:**

> Now I've covered all the Winchesters, why do I do this? This is maybe a bit OOC for John, like I mentioned, but I wanted to explore the Dean and John relationship more. Because okay yes John sucked as a dad, but I don't think Matt Cohen John would have purposely neglected his children when they were little. Things just got super dark and hard, and I don't want to defend John, because yeah I don't really like him either, but it was fun to explore in this story. I hope we can all put aside our differences and enjoy poor Dean getting tortured in another one of my stories.  
> I really hope you enjoy, I took my time with this one, spent a few days on it rather then 2 hours like my last two supernatural fics. I think you can tell the difference hahah

At four Dean doesn't remember much, who does at four? But he remembers _that_ night as vividly as a four year old possibly could. The flames are what stand out, the bright orange flickering that scorched the room, suffocating him from the inside as his Dad thrust Sammy into his little arms and said Run.

He didn't see his Mom, he's beautiful, elegant mother attached to the roof as flames coursed through her and the room exploded, but he didn't need to. It's stuck in his memory like a nightmare that he can't wake up from. And whenever he's around flames that moment comes back to him, brings him to the instant his little legs couldn't carry him fast enough as he clutched Sammy to his chest and collapsed on the wet grass panting for air.

There isn't anything Dean wouldn't do for his Dad at this point, his attentive, loving father who throws the ball with him on weekends and reads him bed time stories. Sure, he wasn't as doting as Mary, but some would say she was probably too coddling. But John was affectionate and loved his two sons more than anything. He was a proud, loving father.

There wasn't anything Dean wouldn't do for his Daddy and if Daddy told him to grab Sammy and run, that's what he did.

Dad would fix this.

Daddy found them on the grass, Dean too shocked to shed any tears while Sammy screamed his little lungs out, and pulled them both into a tight hug.

Deans never seen his Daddy cry since.

"Daddy?" Dean asks innocently.

John cries on, clutching his boys close to him. If Dean wasn't so confused he would have told him he was holding on too tightly, his arms forming finger bruises on them where John didn't let go.

"It's okay boys, it's going to be okay."

-/-/-/-

It doesn't take Dean very long to realise that everything is _not_ going to be okay.

Not at all.

Life without Mom isn't good, not that Dean ever thought it would be good, but it's worse than he could have imagined. He knows she's gone, understands that she's not coming back, but doesn't know why.

Now, he's too afraid to ask. Doesn't know how to question why his Mommy had to be taken from him when the kids at kinder get to keep there's. He wants to ask, but Daddy always looks sad when Mommy gets brought up.

So instead of asking, Dean doesn't say anything. Dean doesn't say anything except yes or no for months actually. The year after Marys death is a quiet one, and John doesn't know how to get his son back because he doesn't know how to get himself back. Dean reflects how he feels, and Dean isn't going to magically recover when he can sense the tension radiating from his father like a furnace.

He tries to keep their lives as normal as possible for a while, but it's not long before he gets a lead on the yellow eyed demon, where _yes that's a thing in his life now._ Demons, vampires and crazy shit that keep people awake at night are real, and he has a vengeance with one in particular. So he pulls Dean out of kinder, packs the car and moves them across the country.

John knows it's not the smartest thing to do, but they're both only so little, they won't know yet. He'll stop once he gets his hands on the demon and they can all settle down. Live a normal life, one that Mary would have wanted.

Dean doesn't protest when he's sat in the back seat of the impala, colouring book on his lap and Sammy strapped in a car seat next to him. He doesn't question anything, just gives his dad the wide eyes through the rear view mirror, it's completive, but not judgemental. Which John knows his four year old is perfectly capable of.

"You okay Dean?" John asks tenderly.

Dean just nods, "Yes Daddy," He whispers.

-/-/-/-

A year later Dean is five.

He talks more now, not a lot, he is a boy of little words which he makes up for in facial expressions. Mainly he tells people not to touch his brother Sammy, or Sammy needs some food or something to play with. Most of his communication revolves directly around his little brother. This has not failed to go unnoticed by John, but he figures Dean being a little protective over his younger brother is normal at this point. He's glad they'll always have each other.

John tries to keep things as normal as possible, he really does. He still reads to Dean at night although he's noticed he's taken less and less interest in the books and more in the comfort his Dad brings. He tries to have dinner at a table each night, lets them colour and tries to take as much notice as he can with both boys. He has a job though, he's so close to getting the Demon that killed his wife he knows he can do it.

He's dropping the boys off at Bobby's who's offered to take them for a few days so he can chase a lead. He's never left them with anyone before, but he's grown a repertoire with Bobby, and he offered. John needs all the help he can get.

"You'll be good boys for Uncle Bobby yeah?" John asks Dean as he kneels in front of the boy, his blonde hair is getting shaggy, he'll have to get him a hair cut soon. His eyes are wide and trusting, wary of a new person but he has faith in his Dad.

"Yes Daddy," Dean supplies easily and John smiles, pulling Dean into a tight hug and blowing a raspberry on his neck causing Dean to squeal.

"Promise?" John teases and Dean nods giggling.

"Okay, you too Sammy," John kisses his youngest forehead and hands the one year old over Bobby who goes over gracefully. Bobby looks a bit warily at the child but Sam settles easily in his arms. Sam trusts Bobby completely, he's a trusting child naturally, but John had gotten them used to Bobby over time ready for this moment in case Sam decided to have a sour day.

 Dean on the other hand is a very _untrusting_ child so he's a bit wary, but he likes playing in Bobby's junk yard so he generally likes the bearded man.

"You'll be back soon right?" Dean asks cautiously, afraid John might never come back.

"Of course kiddo, won't be long at all," John smiles ruffling his hair and Dean pouts at him. Soon Deans going to get too big for that, too big for raspberries and hair ruffling, and Johns not going to realise how much he misses it.

Dean just nods, and with that John gets back in the impala and drives away, leaving his boys in his dust.

"Come on Deano, I've got some sandwiches in the kitchen," Bobby says. Dean nods and clutches the hand that Bobby offers, being lead into the kitchen.

-/-/-/-/-/-

Deans eight, Sam four, when he realises that this whole moving around thing isn't going to stop. Dean is a pretty switched on for an eight year old, he doesn't totally understand what his dad does, but he knows he's some kind of hero who saves people. He's proud of his dad, in his own eight year old way, knows they move around to save people and get the bad guys, like batman, but that doesn't stop the moving around being extra sucky sometimes.

It's been two weeks since John dropped them off at Pastor Jims, two very long weeks in Deans opinion. Not that Pastor Jim isn't a lovely guy, he is and he has good intentions. But Dean misses his dad. Sammys pretty indifferent, he's nothing but used to their Dad being gone for long period of times, and Sam doesn't mind when they get dropped off. It means he gets to stay in one place for a while.

Dean never likes it when they're separated though, everything's only okay when the three of them are together.

No matter where that is.

"De wanna colour?" Sam approaches his big brother dragging the colouring book behind him giving him his big puppy eyes, Dean's pretty sure he doesn't mean to make himself look so adorable, it's just his face.

"Sure," Dean really doesn't want to colour, it's for babies. But it's not like he has anything else to do. Besides, when has he ever said no to Sam?

There not 10 minutes into drawing, Dean kind of half ass colouring in the sky pink while Sam just scribbles nothings on the page, when they hear a  bombing voice echo down the corridor.

"BOYS,"

Deans off the floor as fast as his little legs will carry him and he launches himself into his fathers arms with an _oomph._

"Jezz Dean did you grow a foot while I was gone?" John jokes but picks the little man up and pulls him in close, rubbing a big hand up and down his back. He can feel Dean relax at the touch, releasing a tension he's been bottling up for days. It's always been hard on Dean when he leaves, Deans grown attached in a way he never would have if Mary had been alive. It knots Johns insides how attached Dean has grown while Sam remains indifferent, used to being palmed off to different people as long as he has Dean. No matter what John does he knows he's failing tremendously as a dad.

"Of course not Dad," Dean says, but doesn't remove his arms from around the man's neck.

"Daddy!" Sam runs up to him and with his other arm he picks Sammy up, cradling both boys to his chest he takes in there scent.

He's getting too old to be able to do this, and very soon they're going to be far too big to be carried. But the hunt had taken it out on him, a wendigo had slaughtered a little girl, around Deans age. He needs this from his boys right now.  Needs the comfort they can give him as much as they need it from him.

"Did you catch the bad guys Dad?" Dean asks.

John smiles, "Yeah son, they're all gone. Were you good for Pastor Jim?" He asks.

Dean just nods and then Sam starts animatedly talking about all the adventures they got to go on, which John deciphers was simply going to the park. That makes him feel guilty.

Jim asks him if he wants to stay for dinner, and the tired look on his face answers for him as Jim asks Sam to help him set the table. Eager to help he jumps from his dads arms and waddles to the kitchen.

"You okay bud?" John asks Dean when he makes no attempt to move, "You're getting a bit old for this,"

Dean freezes at that, afraid of the rejection that's going to follow. Johns not the most affectionate father to exist but he doesn't usually refuse Dean cuddles after a hunt. That's the time Dean has always needed them the most, and John allows this needing it as much as him. He tries to wiggle a bit to be let down, but instantly John realises his mistake and holds on.

"No, no bud I didn't mean that. Just thought you'd be getting too cool for your dad," John tries to joke about it but the damage has been done and Dean just looks down at Johns buttons fiddling with them.

Nobody would expect it, but Dean is a quiet, reserved child. He doesn't generally speak unless spoken to, doesn't complain and has all the tendencies of an introverted child contrasting to the out spoken bundle of joy Sam is. John knows it's because of the responsibility he's forced upon his eldest, to take care of Sam when he's not there, make sure Sam is safe and quiet while he works, make sure Dean looks after everything when he can't. It's too much to ask of an eight year old, he knows but Dean has morphed into it so well. He takes orders and doesn't question them, stays silent when he knows he should, but allows Sammy to have all the normality's he can give the four year old.

John tries in moments like these to give Dean what he needs as a child too, but he knows he's already robbed him of so much.

"Come on son, lets go help Jim," John sighs kissing the top of Deans head and carrying him into the next room. Dean tries to wiggle a little but John holds on even tighter, giving the boys side a reassuring squeeze that makes him giggle.

For the rest of the night Dean doesn't leave his lap, and that's mainly because John won't let go of him.

He's not ready to let go yet.

-/-/-/-/-

"Will we get to go to the movies tomorrow Dad?" Seven year old Sam asks eagerly as John tries to haul the small hyper active child into bed. He knows he's winning a losing battle, so he settles for hoisting Sam above his shoulders as the child shrieks animatedly, "DADDY!"

It's the happiest Sam has sounded in a long time and John wants to keep it going for as long as possible, it's been a rough couple of days he'd been getting a lead on yellow eyes, so he'd taken the day to spend with his boys. Making his youngest very pleased.

"If you go to bed now that might be on the cards," John replies, it would be stretching their funds a bit, but Sam won't stop talking about this movie he wants to see and John wants to try.

"Yay! Dean did you hear that?" Sam asks excitedly now hanging upside down as John carries him into the little motel bedroom he shares with Dean. Dean looks up from his comic book and gives Sam a small but genuine smile.

"Sure Sammy," Dean replies, then goes back to his comic.

John frowns at his son, who has been more distant than usual, but doesn't have much time to dwell on it as he drops Sam unceremoniously onto the bed causing him a fit of giggles, his dark hair getting tussled.

"But for now you little monster need to get some sleep," John says helping Sam into bed, pulling back the covers and wrestling Sam into them.

"But Daddy I'm not tired," Sam says although he settles into bed easily enough, allowing John to pull the covers up to his chest and tuck him in tightly. Reluctant or not the child is sleepy.

"How about you just close your eyes and see if you get sleepy?" John suggests and Sam nods,

"Okay Daddy,"

John smiles and kisses the boys forehead, pushing the long shaggy hair out of his smallest sons eyes. Sam desperately needs a haircut, but he hates the hairdressers. John knows they'll have to have a fight about it before he goes back to school, but for now he'll let Sam keep it.

John pats the blankets tightly around his youngest one more time, before standing up, knees creaking as he does reminding him that he's getting on and he turns to Deans bed. He's a little lost to find Dean is already under the covers, lying on his side away from Sammy. Usually he lets John say goodnight.

"Dean," John approaches his eldest and sits on the bed, he doesn't faze it like a question but it comes out a bit.

Dean just rolls over and gives John a patterned look he would have given his father if he'd tried to tuck him in. John knew this day was coming, Dean is getting older, far older than any normal 11 year old. And he should have expected it, the way he's treated Dean lately, expected him to look after Sammy while John barks orders at him. But it's been a rough month, and he's so close to yellow eyed.

Still John can't help but try, "Do you want me tuck you in?"

Dean doesn't roll his eyes because he's more respectful then that but John can tell he wants to, "Come on Dad, you know I'm not a little kid like Sammy," he says. He almost sounds apologetic, like he might offend his father.

Because no, Dean isn't a little kid like Sammy, and that's all Johns fault for forcing his son to grow up too quickly.

"Not just little kids that need to be tucked in though," John tries to reason, he sounds more pathetic then he wants, "You're still my son."

Such a loaded statement.

"It's fine dad," Dean just says and rolls over away from him.

John doesn't want to leave it at that though, he may not be the most normal father on the block but embarrassing his eldest is still something he's good at. So when Dean still has his back to him, he pulls the blanket up closer to the boys chest, tucking it in around him, reminding himself that Dean isn't always going to be so small - he would never mention that Dean seems to be smaller than all the other 11 year olds - and how Dean is when his older is a reflection on _his_ very parenting.

 God he does try.

When he's finished tucking the blanket around him he leans down to plant sloppy exaggerated kisses on his sons neck and cheek.

"Ugh Dad," Dean says exasperated curling up in himself and trying to push John away to no avail. His no match against Johns strength though and he can hear the giggle in Deans voice which only encourages the man.

When he thinks Dean has had enough he pulls away and ruffles his sons hair.

"Goodnight son,"

"Night Dad."

-/-/-/-/

At 13, John knows Deans not old enough to hunt yet, but he's old enough to look after Sam when he's gone for a day or two. He still drops them at Bobby's if he thinks he's going to be away for more than a week, but the short times he's away Dean is responsible enough to look after them for a while.

He steps up to the plate easily, taking on care giver and role model for Sam, and Sam looks at his big brother like he's hung the moon and the stars.

"Boys," John drops his duffle bag at the foot of the door and he slams it behind him. The hunt had been easy, a salt and burn job he could have done with his eyes closed. He'd only been away for two days, one and a half if you're counting.

"Dad!" Nine year old Sam squeals and runs to his father, "You're back!"

John smiles and ruffles the top his sons hair, "I am, were you good for Dean?"

"Yep," Sammy smiles cheekily up at him.

John looks around the small motel room, trying to locate his eldest. He sees him at the kitchen, concocting one of his interesting Mac and Cheeses that makes him want to throw up, but Sam thinks is exotic.

"Everything okay Dean?" John calls out and Deans head snaps up from where he was serving the meal.

"Yes sir. Finished all our homework, Sammy's had a bath, even read his school book," Dean supplies easily, there's no bitterness in his yes sir, he's happy to supply the information, proud of himself for getting it all done.

John smiles, "Well done Sammy,"

"It was about a boy who played soccer and got hurt, but he's okay now," Sammy explains and John nods as intently as he can.

"Sounds interesting, why don't you boys have dinner while I go have a shower? Got some things I need to finish up,"

Sams smile drops a little bit, just having his father back to be gone again, "Okay," He says making his way over to the table no spring in his step.

He locks eyes with Dean and the boy gives him a curt nod, which he returns.

It's not cold perse, but it's not warm either.

It's indifferent.

Like he wasn't needed before, he won't be needed if he goes away again.

It stings on a level John didn't think it would.

-/-/-/-/-/-

"Wow, nice shot,"

Dean doesn't roll his eyes at the surprise that laces Johns voice, but he really wants to because, _of course_ it's a good shot.

He's Dean Winchester.

Deans 14 now, he's getting taller and putting on muscle for a kid his age, puberty is doing him well f he has anything to say about it. Surely the girls at whichever school he's at seem to think so, he's been making people do his homework for years. He's got that teenage angst stuff down pat but his real skill is sarcasm, much to Johns annoyance.

They're staying at Bobbys for a few days between hunts, and John has finally decided it's time Dean learn how to shopt a gun properly. At 14 Dean has shown more skill and disciple then some of the hunters John's worked with, and one day he's going to make a great hunter. He's skilled and able to compartmentalise his emotions, getting the job done when needed. He's a great solider, he would have done well in the military.

John knows he shouldn't be so proud of him, it's morbid and messed up in so many ways. But he is, even if he feels guilty about it straight away.

"Try a little higher this time, see if you can hit the cap," John says this time.

Dean breathes, takes his time and lines up the shot. He hits it perfectly.

"And he scores again," Dean whoops and turns to his father who gives him an impressed look.

"Why are you so good at this?" He hears Sam shout from where he's perched on a nearby fence, staying right out of the way but enough so he can shout petty insults at his older brother. Just like a little brother should.

"Because I was born for this Sammy," Dean says easily and he can see his shaggy haired little brother roll his eyes.

"You better be paying attention son, you'll be doing this soon," John says and nobody misses the way the eleven year old flinches.

The family business isn't always so appealing to everyone, let alone Sam.

"Again Dean," John instructs taking his attention away from Sam and onto Dean, who immediately sets its up again.

Out of 10 more he hits 7 perfectly but the others are a little out.

"It's good, but not good enough. You'll need to practise whenever you can, it needs to be perfect or people die," John says evenly, harsher then he intended but he needs to get it through to his occasionally wayward son that this is not a joke. What they do isn't just a job people come back from, if he mucks around people get hurt.

Dean stands straight, looks his dad straight in the eye and nods, "Yes sir."

-/-/-/-/-

At 16 Dean does a lot of things, he flirts with anything that has a set of boobs, he gets free meals when he talks up the waitresses, he goes on hunting trips with his dad and yanks a couple of demons like it's no big deal. Deans childhood has never been normal, despite the schooling he tries his best to keep up and friends he can easily make because he has far better social skills then Sam, Dean would never call himself a normal teenager. Sometimes he tries his best, but he wasn't raised to be normal, he couldn't sit still long enough for the 9 to 5 life he knows his little brother craves but won't say.

Deans life is chaotic and insane some days, but he's happy enough. The older he gets the more he understands why they do what they do. Dean would follow his father to the end of the earth, he worships the man.

However, as much as Dean tries to convince himself that his life isn't normal, nothing he does every is, _occasionally_ normal things that happen to normal everyday people, happen to _him._

It's rare, but it's been known to happen now and then.

Dean honestly thought he was above getting something as mundane as a _cold_ though.

His Dean freaking Winchester, he doesn't get sick. He's got way too much to do to get sick.

When he wakes up that morning, coughing up what feels like a bloody lung with his nose running like a tap and headache aching between his eyes he knows he is truly screwed.

Shit is coming out of his lungs like there's no tomorrow and he desperately tries to muffle his coughing into his shirt sleeve so he doesn't wake his Dad or worse Sam.

He can't be sick, not today. He's got this massive test today and after school he's supposed to go on a hunt with his dad, he's going to gank his first vampire and even though it sounds ridiculous he's excited to prove himself.

Plus he's supposed to get Sam ready and off to school, which while _usually_ isn't a task, Sam likes to talk his ear off about everything and anything and although he would never tell anyone it's his favourite part of his day, it absolutely is.

"Dean?" A sleepy voice is heard and Dean looks up from his bed to find Sam standing awkwardly at his door, he looks like he just woke up and rubbing sleep from his eyes, but the coughing must have caught his attention.

Dean swings his legs over the bed and puts his arms around his stomach as the motion makes him nauseous, "Hey Sammy,"

He flinches at how his voice sounds, rough and weak at the same time, instantly giving away how ill he is.

Sam frowns, "Are you okay? You don't sound well,"

He musters up his best smile while getting from bed and making his way to the kitchen, "Course I am Sammy, just a throat tickle."

"Dean," Sam sounds entirely unimpressed like his about to lecture Dean on something until he cuts in.

"Come on Sam I'm too tired to argue, we've got to get ready for school," Dean says.

Sam just continues to frown, "Dean you sound really sick you shouldn't be going to school."

He snorts at that, "Yeah because Dads just going to let me take a sick day. Come on you need to shower and eat."

Sam looks entirely unconvinced but decides to make a deal, "If I shower then you have to right after, the hot water will help clear your sinuses,"

Dean smiles at his book worm of a little brother, but agrees nonetheless, "Okay fine."

The younger looks at least happy with that, and has one of the quickest showers known to man that Dean has barely had time to make toast. He's coughing into his sleeve when Sam comes out and he feels a small hand pat his back, he's embarrassed but his head is pounding too hard to care.

"Go have a shower Dean, I'll make breakfast," Sam says easily and gently pushes him in the direction of the bathroom.

Dean doesn't even make a comment about pushy younger brothers because he's still coughing into his hand, valiantly trying to muffle it even though he doesn't know why he bothers.

He showers quickly, because while yes Sam is right the hot water is helping him, it's also making his head pound uncomfortably, but at least he feels a bit more human afterwards. Enough that he thinks he might even make it through the day.

That feeling doesn't last long, but when he goes to get dressed for the day he finds that somebody has picked out his clothes, a pair of jeans, long top and his favourite hoodie that's slightly too big but is warm and comfortable. He knows Sam picked it for him, always complaining that Dean must be cold because he doesn't dress properly. He chucks on the hoodie which he usually only wears around the house because it's too big and makes him look younger than he is, but it's warm and comfortable and should be good enough to get him through the school day.             

When he enters the kitchen he finds Sam eating toast at the counter, and the younger hands him some pills,

"It's all we have, not much but it should make your head feel a bit better," Sam says almost sadly but Dean grins at him.

"Thanks Sam,"

They eat in silence for a bit, Dean just picking at his food and pulling his sleeves over his hands to stay warm, why is he so cold?

Finally Sam breaks the tension, "Are you sure you should go to school? I'll talk to Dad I'm sure he'd understand,"

Dean cuts him off, "It's fine Sammy, I'll be fine. Don't say anything to Dad."

It's almost a plead which Dean wishes it wasn't, because it's not like their Dad is a slave driver, he would probably let him stay home and recover. But he doesn't want his dad to know, doesn't want his dad to worry or _worse not give a damn_. Dean's fine anyway, he just needs to be distracted and he doesn't want to let anyone down just because a bit of a cold. He was so ready for tonight.

He's fine.

Sam looks reluctant, but agrees warily. That doesn't stop him from giving Dean weird looks all the way to school.

School is worse than Dean would have thought, he coughs all his way through first period and then sneezes his way through second. Each teacher looks at him with pity, and his English teacher who is young and gorgeous and who Dean _absolutely doesn't have_ a crush on but he's been working his charm, pulls him aside during fourth period to ask him if he'd like her to call his Dad. She says it with the kind of affection and sympathy you'd give a sick puppy that Dean is not only mortified but embarrassed. He could almost swear she wanted to pull him in for a hug, her tone was just too damn sweet, just like a mom.

 Dean thought he'd been working his charm on her and he tries to convince himself this is just a setback in _his too cool for school_ attitude, when really she probably always thought he was just some adorable kid, that title is reserved for Sammy god damn it.

The oversized hoodie he's sporting today probably didn't help his case.

He tries to act indifferent and tough throughout the rest of the lesson but he's pretty sure he dozes off, because when the bell rings he wakes up violently and she rests a comforting hand on his shoulder, letting him know she'll be in her office the rest of the day if he needs anything.

Finally, _finally,_ the last bell of the day rings and he trugs his way to his locker, grabbing what he needs and not making eye contact with anyone. He waits for Sam in the usual spot and when Sam greets him with a concerned smile they walk the short trip back home.

Dean is absolutely not swaying on his feet, but he maybe bumps into Sammy a few times by accident. Sam takes it in stride though, easily resting a comforting hand on his elbow and he doesn't have the strength to shake it off.

"Maybe you should stay home tonight Dean," Sam suggests knowing Deans not gonna like it.

"I'm fine Sam," He snaps but as he says it his throat is sore and raw. He rubs his neck consciously.

When they make it back to the motel Dean all but crashes on the couch face first with a groan. He doesn't even care how old and uncomfortable it is. He just needs to rest his eyes for a second.

He doesn't notice their Dad who had been sitting at the kitchen table going over notes, which means he doesn't see the pleading eyes Sammy gives John either, causing John to raise an eyebrow and walk over to them, towering over Dean and studying the back of his head.

"How was school?" John asks, looking Sam in the eye sternly as if a look will make him tell their father what's wrong.

Sam doesn't need that though, he wants their dad to know.

"Fine," Dean answers the same time Sam says, "Deans sick."

This causes Dean to snap his head in Sams direction and glare, which the younger holds with his own raised eyebrows.

The glare holds no merit when Dean starts to cough everywhere.

Now Johns paying attention, "How sick?"

He asks and for once takes notice of Deans pale skin and clammy forehead, he also notices the oversized hoodie Deans sporting, one he usually complains about because it makes him look stupid, but John also knows he wears when he wants the comfort. Alarm bells go off, they're supposed to hunt tonight.

"I'm fine," Dean says quickly and goes to make his way off the couch, another sign John knows his trying to avoid something. Johns too quick for him though, and rests a hand on the boys forehead. He's burning up.

"Dean," John says sternly and a little irritated.

"I'm fine Dad," Dean says with more merit this time, desperate for his father not to leave him out on this one.

John wipes his face with his hands in an exasperated motion, he's exhausted and irritated for more than once reason.

Mad at Dean for being sick because now the hunt is screwed around, he was counting on Dean for back up. Mad at Dean for being sick and not telling him so he could stay home from school, he doesn't need social services on his ass again. Mad at Dean for thinking he couldn't tell him, afraid that he'd be mad. Most of all his annoyed at himself, for putting his eldest son in such a position he felt he had to go to school sick and hunt sick, because he'd be disappointed in him.

John is never getting Father of the year.

"Dean," John starts but he's cut off.

"I'm fine sir, I can go tonight," He stands up as he says it and John doesn't miss the way he sways.

"Dean you're sick. You can't hunt if you're sick and you shouldn't have gone to school," John says.

"Seriously Sam is overreacting," Dean says.

"Am not," A little voice in the background says and John can see how upset and worried he is of his big brother. He's superhero big brother who doesn't get sick but chases away all the bad guys.

"Dean you're clearly sick. I'm not mad, but you should have said something. We can hunt when you're better. If you're not 100 percent on your game someone could get hurt. Now I'll go get some stuff quickly from the shops and then I'll go out. You're to go to bed," John says.

He doesn't miss the way his eldest face falls, upset on so many levels.

"But sir,"

"No buts. Go to bed, that's an order," John says it to end the conversation and picks up his duffle bag.

Dean looks defeated, but he doesn't defy orders. Even ones telling him to go to bed.

"Yes sir."

When John comes back 40 minutes later with microwaveable chicken soup and children's cough syrup because he couldn't find anything else, he is greeted with Dean lying on the ratted couch covered with at least three blankets and Sammy near his feet watching crappy reality TV.

Dean must be really sick if he's letting his little brother cover him with blankets, but he looks almost asleep.

He tells Sammy to go heat up the soup and make some toast, and pours out a generous amount of cough syrup.

"I'm sorry," Dean barely whispers as John crouches down near his son. He looks about 10 years old curled up under blankets and sleepy, and John can't help but push his hair aside.  He'd be mortified if he told him.

"It's okay son, just get some rest okay?" John asks. Dean hasn't been this sick in years, sure sometimes he comes down with a cold which is normal for their lifestyle, but Dean is notorious for sucking it up and staying quiet. He must be sick.

"Yes sir."

-/-/-/-

"I just can't believe how stupid you were!" John whispers furiously at his eldest son while Dean gives him a look full of eyebrows and lips, exasperated and done with this lecture that Johns been going at for the past half hour.

He cradles his arm that is now in a cast close to his chest and leans back against the hospital bed, "I'm not going to say I'm sorry." John can tell how his teeth grit in pain but he stands his ground.

At 20 Dean has a roughness to his voice John didn't have until he'd come back from the military, but he supposes Deans seen enough to earn it. He's tall and broad for 20, defined shoulders, quick tongue and even quicker reflexes.

John would like to tear his son a new one for that comment right here and now, because his tone is disrespectful and Dean is nothing but respectable. But he knows his eldest has a point. Which just makes the whole situation so much worse.

They'd been on a hunt, a general ghost possession which hadn't been too complicated. Dean has been on enough hunts now to know exactly what's going on, but it was one of Sam's first. At 16 he's more than capable to look after himself, and civilians, but Johns been keeping him away from hunts for reasons he can't quite explain.

Sams more delicate and empathic then Dean has ever been, so when the possessed had lunged at the young girl Sam had gone in and saved the day, risking his own skin for hers.

What John always forgets to put into his little family business equation was Dean. Because once Sam has risked his life, Dean had jumped in front of Sammy.

In hindsight and against all of Johns better judgement Dean hadn't been wrong, while the possessed merely broke Deans arm in the hustle before it was exorcised it would have done some irreversible damage to Sam.

Not that it makes the situation any better. He still now has an injured 20 year old with a broken arm and bad attitude and a distraught 16 year old worried sick over his brother. But the problem was Dean defied a direct order and got himself hurt.

"You don't have to say you're sorry you have to be smarter!" John wants to roar but doesn't want to cause a scene in the little hospital room with nurses outside.

Dean rolls his eyes and swings his legs over the bed looking for his boots, refusing to make eye contact with John, "My smart decision saved Sams life. I'm not going to apologise for that."

John wants to rip his hair out, "Getting yourself injured in the process isn't going to help!"

"Look dad, I get it," Dean says as he awkwardly tries to tie his boots with one arm while the other is confined in a sling, John can tell it's not going to last a day, "But it doesn't matter. Sam didn't get hurt, ghost got ganked. Case closed."

John rolls his eyes as he watches his son struggle, he can't handle watching his idgit of a son struggle much longer so he bends down and slaps Deans hands away, before tying the damn boots himself.

He can tell Dean's embarrassed, but they both don't say anything and when he's finished Dean hops off the bed giving John a shit eating grin.

Deans too cocky for his own good, but he should have seen this coming when the boy was 14. Despite the boys nonchalant attitude and his blatant disrespect for anyone's authority but he's fathers he knows Deans one and only weakness, Sam.

Life got that much more complicated.

"Case not closed," John says, "You disobeyed a direct order."

Dean looks him dead in the eye, "Fine, I'm sorry I didn't follow your every goddam rule. But I'm not sorry Sammy's out there without a scratch. Sir."

Dean still obeys, but he's not a mindless solider who follows a crap order. And John knows he won't win this battle, nothing is more important to Dean then Sam's safety, the sarcasm won't end tonight.

Instead of arguing, John sighs, he knows a battle when he sees one. And Dean has grown into such a headstrong young man it seems irresponsible to not be a little bit proud of him.

The boy just needs to focus more, understand that this is a lifestyle not a job, and someone's going to get hurt.

"Fine. But if you think I'm cutting you out of that cast early you're dreaming. You'll have to suck it up."

Dean looks mortified at the prospect but follows him out nonetheless. A nurse see's them leave and tries to stop them.

"Young man you can't just leave we need to monitor you overnight,"

Dean scoffs and then winks at her, "Sorry sweetheart I've gotta go,"

They enter the waiting room to find Sammy sitting on a hard plastic chair, he looks like he's going to be sick with worry but jumps up the moment he sees Dean. He runs up to him and stops suddenly when he sees the cast on his right arm.

"Dean oh my god I'm so sorry," He starts to babble and Dean can see tears welling up in his eyes.

Dean just pulls him into a rough hug and messes up his little brothers hair with his good arm, causing the younger to squeal undignified and wiggle out of his grip. At 6 Sams getting taller but Dean still has a fair bit on him, but with one arm out of action Sam finally stands a chance at getting out of his brother's mammoth grip.

"Gonna take more than a couple of broken bones to slow me down Sammy," Dean says easily, like the cast means nothing.

 _Three_ broken bones actually, and yes they will absolutely slow Dean down, John knows this.

He can already tell Deans in pain and is just acting for Sammy's benefit. The way his movements are slightly slower, the wince when he moves his arm.

John knows Sam can tell to, but they both let Dean keep pretending.

John looks his eldest up and down one more time, looking at the strong, brave man he is at20. Stupid sometimes, reckless all the time.

But brave, braver then John ever could have hoped, and watching him withering on the floor trying to hold back screams as his arm was broken in three places is never a position a Father wants to see his son.

His heart had stopped. He was scared.

He just wished he could tell Dean that.

"I'm really sorry Dean," John hears Sammy whisper to Dean in the Impala on the way home, Dean claiming he wanted to nap so he took the backseat with Sam, and not so he could keep an eye on his brother to stop him from worrying.

"Its fine Sammy, I'm made of iron."

John sighs, "We'll head to Bobby's next, I'll drop you off for a few days while I head of to Ohio where some suspicious deaths are happening."

He doesn't miss the sigh Dean omits, "Yes sir."

-/-/-/-/-/

At 26 Dean feels about 46.

Killing demons every week will do that to a person he assumes. He aches in places he shouldn't, his elbow is always sore from when he broke it years ago and it never properly healed, his knees crack more often than they should, and his immune system is never 100 percent because he runs on alcohol and two hours sleep a night.

It's been hard lately, because his dreams have been more vivid then usual, and when his asleep Dean can't run from his demons. Both physical and metaphorical.

When he dreams he sees his mother, blonde and gorgeous and then suddenly not there. He see's Sammy, bright and wide eyed walking out on him at 18, saying that _yeah of course I love you Dean, but I can't anymore._

And now his dad had gone on a hunting trip a week ago, and he hasn't been back.

For the first time in Deans life he's alone. Johns been gone for a week, when he was only supposed to be gone two days, and is no longer answering his phone. Sam's gone, Sam doesn't even pick up the phone for him anymore, hasn't for years.

Dean's on his own.

It shouldn't bother him the way that it does. He's an adult, used to hunting alone, used to doing things on his own, fending for himself. But he's not used to not having anyone to touch base with, having no one to go back to when things get that tiny bit too hard.

Dean's never had a home, but he has had a family. Which always ends up being his home. Something to go back to, something to rely on.

Dean's home has disappeared despite how hard he always tried to cling on to it.

Stretching he checks his phone, its early, much earlier then he usually wakes up, and has no messages.

Again.

Obviously.

He presses two buttons and listens as it rings. It continues to ring until it once again goes to voicemail.

Dean hangs up before he can hear that god awful message tone.

Dad's gone on a hunting trip, and he hasn't been home in a few days.

He feels his stomach tie up in knots, he thought if he followed all the orders this wouldn't happen. He thought if he was a good brother and did everything right by Sam he wouldn't walk away. He thought if he worshiped the very ground his dad walked on he wouldn't leave the way his Mom did.

Turns out, Dean was wrong.


End file.
